"So this is Christmas...

and what have you done?" John Lennon's Happy Christmas (War is Over) has been playing a lot lately...well, it is the season, so nothing really unusual about that. Though I don't normally come in on Christmas songs at the beginning, and for some reason this year I have heard the first two lines of this song over and over again. As if someone was trying to tell me something.



What have I done? Nothing out of my ordinary procrastinating world. I have been jobless for months and still was rushing to get my presents ready for Christmas. Truth be told, I still have some presents to make. Yes, not wrap or throw into a bag, but make. I always say "next year will be different!" But it never is. Maybe if I keep these song lyrics in mind, it might make me more ambitious to have an answer next Christmas. Maybe.



This year will be a first -- presents and family on Christmas Eve instead of Christmas. Everyone was somehow concerned about me handling this. As if I was really upset by the date on the calendar. Really my only concern was getting presents finished on time. Christmas was Christmas, regardless of whether it was filled with packages and bows. Hey if the Grinch can learn that lesson, how hard is it for me to as well?








And I did get to enjoy two of my favorite things on Christmas: going to the movies and sesame chicken. And having Chinese for Christmas dinner was very theatrical a la A Christmas Story, though I'm glad my dinner was not smiling at me.

Christmas was different in another way as well, in that my mind was elsewhere most of the time. My best friend Amy, a steady fixture for 20 of my 30 years, had a nephew born on the 23rd with serious issues, the biggest being that he didn't breathe for the first 13 minutes of his life. While I've had plenty of tragedies in Christmases past -- I've lost two grandparents and an uncle at this particular holiday -- I've never had one like this, where someone just beginning their life may be leaving it soon.

Suddenly the search for the perfect gift seems like the frivolity it is. Thinking of the celebration of a baby born so many years ago while praying for one born days ago brings up all sorts of emotions and thoughts that I haven't had time to fully process yet. All I know is that gratitude and hope seem to be the biggest gifts to give and receive this year, and I feel very lucky to have both.

Is it strange that...

I was as excited, if not more so, to pick up this today...

than I was this:

Maybe if I had walked in cap and gown or had, oh I don't know, a job, the degree would feel more fulfilling. Right now I'm a little concerned about the amount of happiness something that cost me $40 (actually $10.03 after redeeming gift cards) gave me over something that cost $40,000. Hmm.

Becoming Obama-fied

I have always been one of those pesky Independents. While I vote mostly Democrat and never Republican, I have never been able to completely commit to one party. However, as one political button I saw downtown last week stated; "There ain't no party like a Democrat party" and I checked out the DNC to find that to be true.

I live in a suburb of Denver and could have easily avoided the mayhem and hoopla, but I was curious. I skipped the first couple of days, but after seeing some of my favorite stars at local haunts, I could no longer resist and wrangled a photo savvy friend into meeting me downtown.

I parked near the Brown Palace, where the Secret Service were swarming and headed straight down 17th Street, avoiding the pedestrian mall on 16th that can be crowded on a regular day when thousands of visitors are not in town. My heart skipped a beat as a motorcade came racing up the street towards the Brown. I tempted turning back, but my friend was going to meet me 10 blocks down and I didn't know what obstacles still lay in my path.

A few blocks later I ran into some protestors who had marched 4 miles from the Rage Against the Machine concert on their way to the Pepsi Center. Apparently they were led by Iraq Veterans Against the War (um...aren't they protesting at the wrong convention?) and seemed pretty peaceful, especially with the police line in full riot gear on both sides of them.

At one point the protestors began counting down from 10, making me a little apprehensive to try to find a way to cut through, but when they reached 1 and nothing happened, I pushed on. When I met my friend, Crazy Margaret (I'd go into why she is Crazy Margaret, but that would take a whole other blog), we headed up the mall to see what we could see. What we wanted to see was a whole lotta celebrities. What we saw instead was a whole lotta Obama painted on buildings.

We also saw strange things we don't see everyday, even in Denver.

We walked and walked and walked around. We saw motorcades. We saw protestors. We saw people from all walks of life...except celebrities. Or so I thought! Never second glance beautiful people in ordinary places. I did and missed Charlize Theron sitting 20 feet away from me.

Here she is at my alma mater with Stuart Townsend at the Impact Film Festival.

So my celebrity stalking was a bust but that doesn't mean the adventure wasn't worthwhile. I did witness firsthand a piece of history that will be hard to forget. Never before have I been someplace so alive with excitement and hope. Optimism that was lost with the last election is creeping back up. Say of it what you will but this was the first and only time I raced to the nearest tv to watch political speeches. If that means I've fallen into the Obama hype, so be it. I'm Obamafied and happy to be so.

Bare Shoulders + Sun = Love

Perhaps 30 is a little old to be discovering this, but as an eternally "plump" girl, I am not a fan of showing off my shoulders. It's not that I'm embarrassed by them exactly, but I'm rather horrified by my "hi-bye" upper arms. If you don't know what those are, they are the arm equivalent of a muffin top (and if you are unaware of a muffin top as a fashion faux pas instead of a tasty breakfast treat, well... good for you). The hi-bye arm is when you are waving one way and your arm flab is waving another. Yeah, I told you it's not pretty.

In a summer of record-breaking heat, this phobia of exposed skin can be a truly hindering and sweaty experience. But I dealt with it, chalking up another year of not having to get into a bathing suit or wearing short shorts and tank tops as a success. But then I went outside for a second in my tank top pj's.

Whoa. I literally stopped in my tracks --and my tracks were heading to the garage fridge for a desperately needed caffeine fix, so I was slightly alarmed by the reaction. The warmth hit me immediately, sending tingling sensations to an area so close to my head and heart but so often neglected (not that those areas couldn't use a little more warmth and sunshine, but that's a different story).

It reminded me of when I first went to see a massage therapist after a serious car accident. My back was all spasms and soreness so I thought that was the only area of pain. Boy was I wrong. Once she began working on my arms and shoulders a flood of built up tension started to release. Even my fingertips held onto the angst of my injured body. "You have an extremely high tolerance for pain" she exclaimed as she felt the knots within start to untangle.

I began to wonder if this was a good thing. Should pain really be something to tolerate? I couldn't remember a time when something wasn't injured; whether physically or mentally. Now areas that were "tolerable" of being mistreated and abused by me throughout the years felt like they never had before. It is amazing how much better you can feel when you are unaware of feeling anything else.

So that leads me back to my sun bathing in the backyard. I had no idea just how much my body missed spending a little bit of time in the sun rather than rushing past it to get inside to dimness and air conditioning. I don't know which is stronger in the great debate of nature vs. nurture in the grand scheme of things, but this morning I found a little bit of nature very nurturing.

Not to say I will now throw caution to the wind and wear things that expose my wobbly bits and frighten adults and small children alike. This small joy will have to be repeated a little more often; just as long as the dog and bees and flowers are my only companions.

August and Everything After

So here it is again, the month of my birth. I've always loved that my birthday comes in August, when there isn't really any other holiday around, and yet, it sort of feels like the beginning of a new year. It is usually the start of a new school year, though this is my first year I won't be taking any classes in 6 years.

I've always understood why the Jewish New Year is in September much more than the calendar year of January. Who wants to start something new when everything is dead, the air is cold, and the humdrum after the holidays begins to set in?

I finally got my hair cut and colored today. I haven't had my hair professionally colored in sooo long. And the last time I paid more than $12 for a haircut; well let's just say that it's been a long time too. I don't know why it is always a trauma for me to get my haircut, even when I know I desperately need it. Maybe it has something to do with being a Leo, the mane is a precious thing. Or maybe my anti-Leo tendencies get the best of me and I don't want someone to have to spend a lot of extra time and focus on me. If you knew my hair, you'd know why I feel bad for the stylists. It is thick thick thick and has a mind of it's own. The hairdresser today said it reminded her of the cartoon character in Monsters Inc. with snakes as her hair. Everytime she tried to get it to do something it didn't want to do, it let her know. Sounds silly, but believe me, my hair has a mind of it's own.

But after 3 hours at the salon, my head feels 10 pounds lighter and looks 100 times better. What is it about a good hair day that makes you feel so good? I was looking forward to going out tonight for my birthday before, but now I feel a little bit sassier, there is a spring in my step and I'm ready to kiss my twenties goodbye!

Before:

After!